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She had given him a shirt to celebrate their two-month anniversary. He’d worn it so often since she’d left that it was getting threadbare at the elbows and cuffs.
He grabbed her wrist and, frowning at her forehead, said, “Grandma’s gravy, Gabrielle! What have you gone and done to yourself?”
Shrugging, she put her fingertips to the bump on her temple. “Oh, that.” A slight flush colored her cheeks. “It’s nothing. Really. I clunked my head when I fell.”
She stopped talking so suddenly, Drew wondered if maybe something had stuck in her throat. “When you fell?”
Her smile faded and she stepped out of the embrace, leaving a cold, empty space where her warmth had been. “Wait a minute,” she began pensively, a forefinger in the air, “I think you’re right, Drew.” Brow furrowed, she began to pace. “I think…I think it was me who took Triumph out. I seem to remember—”
She slumped, trembling, onto a kitchen chair. Her lower lip began to quiver, the way it always did when she fought tears.
Drew got down onto one knee, turned her to face him. “Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.” He pulled her close. “You’re okay, and Triumph is a big strong critter. He’s no worse for the wear. I’ll go out in a bit and give him a good brushing.”
Tears were swimming in her eyes when she looked into his. “But…but it’s my responsibility. How could I have forgotten something as important as that?” She bit her bottom lip, then glanced toward the window, shaking her head. “I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Drew.”
She grabbed his shoulders. “How long do you think he’s been out there like that?”
He shrugged, torn between comforting her and protecting himself from whatever her lawyer had put her up to. “Couple of hours, from the looks of things.”
She sighed heavily. “Poor thing, standing around in that heavy saddle all this time, all dirty and sweaty. He must think I don’t give a hoot about him!”
Drew tugged off his gloves, tossed them onto the table and moved her hair aside to get a better look at the injury. “Shoo-ee. That’s some goose egg you’ve got there.”
“That’s what Troy said.”
“Troy?”
She nodded. “He picked me up on Highway 2-12, although I honestly don’t remember how I got there.”
Drew decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She deserved that much. It had hurt like crazy when she’d given him that tongue-lashing the night she walked out. It wasn’t the angry words; nothing she said could ever be as painful as the plain fact that she’d left.
Comforting Gabrielle won out in the battle between protecting her or protecting himself. “Shh,” he said again. “You had a bad fall. That’s the beginning and the end of it.”
As though she hadn’t heard him, Gabrielle said, “Never stopped me from doing my job before.”
“Why are you always so hard on yourself? It wasn’t your fault Triumph threw you.” Lovingly, he tucked her hair behind her ears. “What made him buck?”
She rolled her eyes in frustration. “I’ve tried and tried to remember. Near as I can tell, a snake spooked him. When I came to, there was a dead—”
“Gabby!” Drew interrupted, giving her a gentle shake. “A rattlesnake?” He made a move as if to begin inspecting her, starting with her fingers.
“Relax, Drew,” she said, smiling sweetly. “From the looks of things, Triumph pounded that snake into the dust long before he had a chance to do either of us any harm.” A little giggle popped from her lips. Cuddling both of his hands beside her cheeks, she tilted her head to add, “My hero!”
“Joke all you want,” Drew said, standing. “I’m just relieved you’re all right.”
Sighing, Gabrielle got to her feet, too.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, as she headed for the stove.
“Turning down the oven so I’ll have time to take care of Triumph before supper,” she said. As if to punctuate the statement, Gabrielle staggered, and reached out for something to steady herself.
Drew let himself be that “something.” And once she’d regained her balance, he took her hand in his. “Come over here where the light is better,” he said, leading her to the window.
“Yes, Doctor,” she said lightly.
But Gabrielle followed, he noted, and stood quietly as he examined the lump, peered into her eyes. “Your pupils are so dilated I can barely tell what color your eyes are.” He headed for the door. “Get your coat. We’re going to the emergency room.”
She emitted a little gasp that made him want to wrap her in a reassuring hug.
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine.”
You’re good, honey, he thought, real good. And if he didn’t know her better, he might just swallow that bowl of bravado she’d just dished out. But her usually rosy cheeks were pale, and there was a blue cast to her otherwise pink lips. He didn’t like the way she was weaving and bobbing around the kitchen like a boxer who’d given his all in the ring, either.
“I’m fine. Really.”
“How ’bout we let a doctor be the judge of that?”
“But Drew,” she protested, hanging back as he opened the door, “our romantic anniversary supper is almost ready. All I have to do is light the candles.” She glanced out the window. “And Triumph, he’s—”
He took a quick look around. Why hadn’t he noticed before that she’d set the dining room table with the good dishes and flatware? Why hadn’t he seen that she’d put the silver candlesticks in the middle of his grandma’s linen tablecloth? His heart swelled, knowing she’d gone to so much trouble for him—for them—in her condition.
But how had she accomplished it, swooning like a drunken sailor as she must have been? Stubbornness, he decided, doing his best to hide a grin.
“Besides,” she persisted, “the nearest hospital is an hour away, in Bozeman, and you gave the hands the day off, remember? So they could go to Oktoberfest? We can’t leave the Walking C unattended that long.”
Oktoberfest? But that was—
“We can,” he said, turning off the oven, “and we will.” He jammed the Stetson onto his head. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He grabbed her fringed jacket from the peg behind the door and shook it a time or two, like a matador tempting a bull.
“How about a compromise?” she asked, as he helped her into it.
Drew held the door open, as she stepped onto the porch. The night she’d left, his inflexibility was just one of the things she’d claimed was driving her away. He remembered his prayer: if the Almighty would see to it that Gabrielle was home to stay, he’d do whatever it took to make everything up to her.
“What sort of compromise?”
“Take me to Livingston, instead, to see Doc Parker.”
“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “That makes sense.” He touched a scolding finger to her nose. “But if he sees anything suspicious, anything at all, we’re heading straight to Bozeman.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Got it?”
She sent him a flirty half grin and kissed the tip of that finger. “Got it.”
Habit made him head for the pickup. And then he saw the car he’d bought the week before Gabrielle left him. He’d seen it on the lot weeks before the breakup and had thought how cute she’d look behind the wheel, how much easier it would be for her to get into and out of, especially when she got all gussied up in one of her short skirts and high heels….
Much to his surprise—and dismay—she’d taken one look at the vehicle and stomped into the house without saying a word. One week later, to the day, she left him…in that car.
More than likely, the doc would confirm Drew’s suspicion that Gabrielle had suffered a concussion. How mild or severe was yet to be seen, but getting into and out of his high-riding pickup wouldn’t be easy for her.
Sighing, Drew helped her into the passenger seat of the car. As he revved the motor, he tried to ignore the fact that both Triumph and Chum still stood outside the barn, saddled and bridled and ungroomed. First things first, he told himself, and Gabby would always be the most important earthly being in his life.
He tried even harder not to react when she slid across the front seat and rested her head on his shoulder. Without giving it a second thought, his right arm went around her. What had made her snuggle up the way she used to? Instinct? A need for protection? Love?
But another question rang even louder in his mind. And if curiosity had killed the cat, Drew figured, he was as good as gone. As much as he wanted to know what had brought Gabby home, he was even more curious to know if she planned to stay.
Kent Parker was an old-fashioned country doctor who didn’t believe in sugarcoating things—for patients or their families. So it worried Drew more than a little when the doctor said, “Step into my office. I want to have a word with you in private while Gabrielle gets herself dressed.”
Parker peeled off his latex gloves and tossed them unceremoniously into the nearest trash can. “Your wife will be fine, just fine. She’s suffered a pretty serious concussion, but after a few days of R and R, Gabby will be her ornery old self again.”
“That’s a relief—”
“Bu-u-ut,” the doctor added.
Drew ran a hand through his hair. For all its wide open spaces, Montana may as well have been Mayberry, U.S.A. Because there weren’t a whole passel of folks around, those that were around knew just about everything there was to know about one another. Except for Doc Parker: he knew more than most. And right now, he knew there was a lot on Drew’s mind.
“But,” Drew began, “it only solves one of my problems.” Absently, he stroked his chin. “Frankly, I’m not sure I know what ‘her old self’ is anymore.” Besides, he’d been given a second chance here, and didn’t want to blow it.
The older man dropped a fatherly hand on Drew’s shoulder. “When I heard you two had split up, it nearly broke my heart.” He gave the shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “But she’s back now, and that’s all that matters.”
Drew met the doctor’s clear blue eyes. “Not if she doesn’t remember leaving me.”
Drew had filled the doctor in on the conversation he’d had with Gabrielle in the kitchen earlier. Parker nodded understandingly and sat behind his battered wood desk. “Take a load off, son,” he instructed, gesturing toward a well-worn maroon leather wingback. Once Drew was settled, the doctor leaned back in his own big black chair and clasped his hands behind his gray-haired head. “Living in horse country, I’ve seen this kind of head injury before, too many times to count—and so have you. We both know it isn’t out of the ordinary for someone to temporarily lose a slice of memory when they’ve taken a good hard bump on the bean.”
Placing his Stetson on the seat of the empty chair beside him, Drew leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said to the floor. He met the doctor’s eyes and waited for an answer.
Shrugging one shoulder, Parker said, “Couple of hours, a few days, never…” He shook his head. “Wish I had a straight answer for you, Drew, but these things are iffy at best.” He lifted his white-bearded chin to ask, “Why is it so important to know when she’ll come around?”
Because, Drew answered silently, when she gets her memory back, she’s likely to leave again.
And he didn’t want that. Not now that he’d had another taste of what it felt like, being close to her, having her arms around him and her lips pressed to his.
“I brought you into this world thirty-two years ago, Drew Cunningham, so I know you better’n just about anybody in these parts. Now, out with it! What’s eating you?”
Gritting his teeth, Drew closed his eyes. “I don’t want to lose her again.” He felt like a man who’d been on death row for nearly a year, and had just gotten a call from the governor’s office.
Parker sat forward, linked his fingers on the green felt desk blotter. “What makes you think that’ll happen?”
He looked around the room and focused on Parker’s medical degrees, framed in black, hanging on the wall behind the desk. “Just—things…”
“The subconscious mind is a strange and miraculous thing, Drew, m’boy. Gabby didn’t go back to her apartment in Livingston after that knock on the noodle. She came straight back to the Walking C. What does that tell you?”
He grunted and scowled. “That she’s lost her ever-lovin’ mind?”
Chuckling, Parker aimed a stubby forefinger at Drew. “No need to act all brave and bad for the likes of me. I’m the man who stitched up your knobby knees when you were knee-high to a gopher, set your broken arm before you were ten. Gabrielle went to the Walking C ’cause, in her heart, that ranch is her home.”
A man can hope, Drew thought. Gabrielle had considered it home, until—
What had happened that night snaked through his mind, making him grimace. Right now, he’d give anything to undo what he’d done, or, at the very least, find a way to do it differently.
Gabrielle breezed into the room before Drew had a chance to verbalize his fears to Parker. “Why the long faces?” she asked. Grinning and wiggling her eyebrows, she added, “I’m not dying or anything, am I?”
Dying! The very thought made Drew’s heart beat double-time. He got to his feet. “Honestly, Gabby,” he complained, scowling, “sometimes your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”
Her gray eyes widened and her smile dimmed. “Sawree,” she said emphatically. One hand beside her mouth, she aimed a loud whisper at Parker. “I take it you just gave him the bill?”
“No, he didn’t,” Drew answered in the doctor’s stead. Then added, “Why do you always tie everything to money?”
Lips narrowed, she raised her left eyebrow. “Maybe,” she began, hands on her hips, “because money is always on your mind!”
Now there’s the Gabrielle who left months ago, Drew said to himself.
“Now, now,” the doctor interrupted, hands raised in mock surrender. “Bickering isn’t going to do any of us any good, me in particular, since I’m such a sensitive soul and all.”
Drew shot him a Who do you think you’re kidding? look and said, “If there’s nothing else, I guess we’ll be on our way.” He thought of the fully saddled horses and groaned inwardly. “I have things to tend to when I get home.”
Gabrielle hung all eight fingertips from her bottom teeth. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped, “Triumph and Chum!”
Her anguish immediately diminished Drew’s ire. “Like I said before, they’re big ‘n’ strong—spoiled rotten, for the most part. It won’t kill them to wear their saddles a while longer, just this once.”
It did his heart good to see that his words eased her distress some. Maybe, if she were home to stay, he’d get a chance to find out what in blue blazes made her so all-fired hard on herself all the time.
Drew pressed a palm against the small of Gabrielle’s back to lead her out of Doc Parker’s office. The action reminded him of their wedding night, when he’d guided her in the very same way into their penthouse suite at that fancy hotel in Helena. Gritting his teeth, he touched a forefinger to the brim of his Stetson and snapped off a cowboy salute.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Glad to be of service,” the older gent said as he walked them to the door. “Now, remember what I told you in the examining room, Gabby—take it easy for the next few days. And Drew, don’t forget to—”
“I put fresh batteries in the flashlight just this morning,” he assured. “And I’ll set the alarm for the checkups.”
He wondered how long it would be before she asked him to explain that last part of his conversation with Parker, and counted the seconds as they crossed the parking lot: five, four—as he opened the passenger door—three, two—as he helped her inside—one—
“Checkups?” she asked. “What kind of checkups?”
She was so intent on the question, and its answer, that she didn’t seem to notice that he’d fastened the seat belt for her. “You’re welcome,” he teased, grinning.
A glance at her furrowed brow told him Gabrielle hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. He slid in behind the steering wheel and poked the key into the ignition. “Doc says that for the next day and a half, I have to check your eyes every hour on the hour. If your pupils don’t constrict when the flashlight beam hits them, or if they’re not the same size, it’ll mean trouble, and I’m to get you to the hospital, stat.” He didn’t tell her the part about CAT scans and MRIs. No sense worrying her.
“Hospital? T-trouble?” she repeated, long lashes fluttering. “You mean—you mean as in…brain damage?”
Drew shook his head. The likelihood of that, Doc Parker had assured him, was slim to none. Drew’s main objective was to keep her calm. “I’m a little concerned about something—”
“Concerned?” She turned on the seat to face him. “Concerned about what?”
“Well…” he drawled.
She held her face in her hands. “Arghh, you can be so exasperating sometimes!”
“Doc never said how I’m supposed to tell the difference.”
“Difference? What difference? Drew, honestly, you’re giving me a headache.”
